Two Halves of a Whole, Two Parts of a Soul
by Small-Wonders
Summary: A smile brighter than the stars lights up her face. "You found me." / In which a mischievous princess goes missing in the best way possible and a charming prince keeps his promise to always find her. Oneshot.


**Title:**_ Two Halves of a Whole, Two Parts of a Soul_

**Author: **always_a_queen / Small-Wonders

**Fandom: **Once Upon A Time

**Wordcount: **2,262

**Rating: **T

**Pairings: **Snow/Charming, David/Mary Margaret

**Warnings: **Non-graphic sexual content.

**Prompt: **"24/7", which I've interpreted into 'every hour of every day'/'all the time', because...it's a prompt and I can do that. For OnceUponAPrompt at Livejournal

**Notes: **I've decided to hang it all and say that this, along with _Magic at Midnight_ and _A Simple Intimacy,_ is pretty much becoming an AU series taking off from The Shepherd (1x06). That's not to say there won't be occasional spoilers from episodes _after_ 1x06, just that this fic goes AU after that point., which is _also_ not to say that it can't be read as a stand-alone fic, because it definitely can.

**Summary:** As if she's suddenly aware of his presence, Snow spins to face him, her luxurious hair bouncing around her shoulders. A smile brighter than the stars lights up her face. "You found me." / _In which a mischievous princess goes missing in the best way possible, and a charming prince keeps his promise to always find her._

* * *

His wife is missing.

Not missing in a kidnapped-by-ruffians way, because if that were the case, Snow would be wandering through the castle gates at any minute dragging the aforementioned ruffians - like bound and gagged - behind her.

No, Snow White is missing in that she-wasn't-where-she-was-supposed-to-be-when-she-was-supposed-to-be-there way.

This is not the first time she's disappeared either. She's made a habit of vanishing when she's feeling overwhelmed or stressed...

...or if she just wants James to find her.

Lately, the cause for her disappearances has been the last reason on the list.

One of her many attendants comes up to the Prince and asks him - with quite a bit of blushing and stammering - if he's seen his wife this morning.

James wonders if she's expecting him to say that Snow is in his bed. They each have their own set of rooms in the palace, but hers are almost never used because they haven't slept in separate beds since the wedding. Sometimes after _long_ nights, Snow likes to sleep in, and her attendants aren't allowed inside the Prince's quarters without his permission. It's an antiquated rule, one they've instructed their staff time and time again to break if need be, but the maids have long been a stubborn bunch.

"I haven't seen my wife this morning," James tells the girl. The Princess was already gone from their bed when he woke, which was not altogether atypical, just a tad uncharacteristic. "Is she needed?"

The girl shrugs her shoulders and keeps her head bowed. "I was only told to locate her, sire," she says. "The dressmaker says she had a fitting this morning."

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes - Snow loves the gowns he designs, but finds the dressmaker himself rather peevish and is _constantly_ skipping out of her appointments - James tells the maid to go back to her work; he'll find his wife.

The first place he checks is their quarters. The rooms are predictably empty. He heads to the kitchen next; the head chef has just gotten a delivery of fresh strawberries, and more than once James has found the Princess seated on one of the kitchen counters, biting into the delicious berries while their entire kitchen staff scurries around her.

She's not there either, although her strawberries are. James pops one into his mouth and heads for the stables. Often, he's found her there, clothed in trousers and boots, hair tucked up into a dark brown cap, as she lovingly grooms one of the horses.

Snow is not in the stables.

James feeds his prize mare an apple and continues his search.

He finally finds Snow by the fountain in the center of the expansive gardens. Her gown is as white as her namesake; the bodice is speckled with diamonds and pearls, the skirt is covered in delicate embroidery.

Her long, gorgeous hair waves and curls as it cascades down her back. Tiny white flowers dot the dark locks like snowflakes.

She's walking carefully around the fountain, her bare feet balancing on the edge. There's a flower in her hand, and she carefully plucks out the petals one by one. She's so involved in the song she's humming James is sure that if he were to startle her, she would tip and fall right into the water.

Which might make that dress look even better.

For a few moments he just stands, watching her. She's dancing slowly, sensuously, like she knows her husband is standing right behind her and she's determined to give him a show.

She's not just beautiful; she's beauty _itself_.

And yes, he's biased. Terribly so.

As if she's suddenly aware of his presence, Snow spins to face him, her luxurious hair bouncing around her shoulders. A smile brighter than the stars lights up her face. "You found me."

James steps forward, his hand casually resting on his sword. "Were you lost?"

Her head tips to one side, and she puckers those ruby lips for a second before she answers, "I could have been. You never know."

"Mmhmm." With both hands, he runs his fingertips gently down her arms, cupping her elbows and tugging her towards him.

He doesn't kiss her on the lips, partially because he enjoys teasing her and partially because she subtly turns her head away, which means that she enjoys being teased.

Instead he winds his arms around her waist and presses soft kisses against the smooth column of her neck. She squirms pleasantly in his arms, and he fiddles with the thin straps of her dress.

"You missed your dress fitting," he murmurs against her skin.

"Did I?" she pulls back, arching an eyebrow teasingly. She moves one of his hands around to her back and places it on the laces of her dress. "I think this is a little too tight. Will you loosen it for me?"

She doesn't have to ask twice.

She doesn't even really need to ask once, because as soon as James' fingers tighten around the ribbon, he's undone the bow and untangled the knot. While he carefully undoes the lacing, she giggles and bounces slightly, looping her arms around his neck. Her lips find the underside of his jaw, and James lets out a soft groan that is anything but charming.

Why do gowns have to be so blasted difficult to take off?

She giggles at his frustration and steps away from him, which feels like the cruelest punishment in the _world_ until he realizes that she's shimmying out of her dress, leaving behind a slip of fabric that _just_ manages to pass as a slip.

She reaches forward, gently unbinding the dark purple sash from his shoulder and nimbly undoing the rows of silver buttons. In short order, his jacket joins her dress. James has a feeling that his shirt won't be far behind, and he's right.

Snow's lips brush across his collar, and he wishes upon whatever Fairies are nearby that the gardeners all decided to take the afternoon off, because there is no way they are going to make it back to the castle.

And honestly? James doesn't really _want_ to go back inside. There's something wonderfully free about the outdoors, the way the spring sun shines softly down on them, the soft soothing sounds of the flowing fountain and the melody of the birds singing happily, the smell of fragrant flowers and the taste of the fresh air. All things he once knew well. The indoors feels stuffy and stifling to him.

But the king is dead and there are people he must rule, citizens he must now protect, lives that are now depending on him.

He wants, more than almost anything else, to do the honorable thing by them. He wants to do his best.

As if sensing that his mind is suddenly very far away, Snow abruptly takes him by the hand and drags him away from the fountain. They find a soft patch of grass and settle down. Snow spreads herself out next to him, stretching her arms out above her head. James cradles her ribcage with his hands as he rolls over onto her, catching her mouth in a leisurely kiss. She wiggles enticingly beneath him.

He loves this part - the teasing, the tantalizing build up. He loves driving her _crazy_ by finding just the _right_ way to touch her, just the _right_ words to whisper in her ear, and just the _right_ way to kiss her senseless.

James honestly believes that he could taste Snow's rosy lips forever.

Finally, she has enough, and he lets her shove his shoulders to push him over. She crawls over him, straddling his hips and using the pressure her hands exert on his shoulders to hold him to the ground. With her lips pushed up in an _adorable_ pout, she tips her head to the side.

"Charming," she whispers, "has anyone ever told you that you're a _tease_?"

He flashes his most charming grin at her. "It takes one to know one, Princess."

With that, she releases his shoulders and sighs as he sits up to kiss her again.

* * *

It's 7:53 AM, and she's not there.

That isn't exactly a problem; it's just unusual. He keeps an eye out for her as he walks down main street towards the animal shelter.

He's always looking for her these days, hoping to get a glimpse of those soft eyes and dark hair.

It's official. He is a _horrible_ human being.

Work drags on and on. His coffee from the morning has long been forgotten.

(Honestly? David isn't even sure if he really _likes_ coffee. He doesn't feel like he needs the pick-me-up, and he's not terribly fond of the taste.)

He can't get her out of his head.

Every hour of every day she's there, shimmering in front of him like a siren, the image of flawlessness, perfection itself designed to lure him to his death.

He knows - _damn it_ - that he's a jerk for even _thinking_ about leaving Katharine for her, or for even thinking about her while he's with Katharine, but it's like there's something _off_ in his head, and absolutely _everything_ is all twisted and turned around.

Everything is _wrong,_ and sometimes it feels like he's the only one who even notices.

And the only time everything is _right_ again is when he's with Mary Margaret. It's like she holds some key to his past. It's as if there is something that he still hasn't remembered, pieces of his past that still feel foggy and distant. She's important to him, and he doesn't know why.

After work, David doesn't go home. Instead he wanders around town looking for Mary Margaret. He tries her classroom, but she's not there. He drops by her apartment, but nobody's home. (Emma must be at the sheriff's office.) He asks Henry when their paths cross, but all the kid can tell him is that she was at school this morning and he hasn't seen her since.

Henry does give him a strange smile for his efforts, and the kid walks off with a spring in his step.

Finally, he finds Mary Margaret sitting on a bench in the park, an open book in her lap. Her coat is white and her scarf is as well. Most of her dark hair hinds beneath a white knit cap.

He can't comprehend _why_ she's sitting in the park reading, but she is, and he's found her, so he really should leave now.

His feet take him to her side even as he continues to tell himself that he really should be walking in the opposite direction. Mary Margaret glances up at him and closes her book as he approaches.

"There you are." David shoves his hands into his pockets as he speaks.

"Were you looking for me?" she asks.

He sits down beside her. "I guess I was."

"Well," Mary Margaret gives him the saddest of smiles, "I guess you found me."

"Yeah, well," he gently places his hand over hers. "I just never stopped looking."

"And Storybrooke isn't that big of a town," she points out.

David shrugs. "I would have found you even if you were in a different hemisphere."

He's not sure how he knows _that_ or why he says it with such conviction.

"David," she says his name with that _tone_ - the one that says _you're still married to another woman_. "You can buy me a mobile and you can dance with me, but at the end of the day you're still going to go home to her."

She's right, and he's sorry. Was life this complicated back during the time he doesn't remember?

He wants to tell her he's _sorry_, he does, it's just...

Everything is so _confusing_. He _remembers_ feeling these things for Kathryn, but...

But those are _memories_. Vague reflections in a mirror. It's like some vital part of who he is has been irreparably altered and shattered. He knows who he wants to be: strong, honorable, dependable.

He doesn't want to hurt anybody, but whatever choice he makes hurts somebody.

Closing her book, Mary Margaret stands to go, and he sees snowflakes caught in the tips of her short black hair.

Their hands are still connected.

_They're_ connected - in this indescribable, completely unique way. He feels like his very _soul_ is missing when she's not with him. Two bodies, one soul - isn't that how it works?

Two halves of whole, two parts of a soul.

During this short moment of reflection, Mary Margaret stands silently beside him, fingers wound loosely around his.

"David," she whispers finally, "It's time to let go."

David lets go, their hands break apart, and Mary Margaret walks slowly away.

* * *

"Promise me something," Snow whispers ages later, brushing a soft kiss against his collarbone as they both still lie in the grass, limbs tangled together.

"Anything," he breathes, mesmerized by the disheveled look of her hair and the way one soft curl bounces apart from all the rest. He catches the lock and playfully twirls it around his fingers.

"Never stop looking for me?" she says.

He smiles at her. "Never. Even if I must search during every hour of every day, every day of every week until I find you." He's already found her when she was so, _so_ lost, so far away.

They've battled the impossible, the two of them, and the strong thread that connects their existences together, right here, right now, is proof of how much they can withstand.

"Hey, Charming," she whispers.

"Mmhmm," he says, lifting her hand to his lips and kissing her knuckles reverently.

"Thanks for never letting me go."

"Hey." James plucks a small, white flower from a nearby bush and lovingly tucks it behind her ear. "You know me. I'll never let you go."

* * *

_end._


End file.
